Under the Iron Sea
by Ebony10
Summary: Collection of one shots. Almost all Jane/Lisbon centric. Rating just in case.
1. Atlantic

This fic is a collection of one shots inspired by songs from the Keane album _Under the Iron Sea_. I wouldn't call it a songfic, but I will include the song that inspired each chapter at the end for those interested. I've been wanting to do this for months (and every time I listen to the album all of these different ideas hit me). Don't know how often I'll update, but that should be okay since the chapters are unconnected. Hope you like it!

Also, don't own them.

**Atlantic**

* * *

It felt as if he was no longer bound by the rules of gravity. Around him, the room—the world—was grounded. But as he became more and more disconnected, it all began spinning. Whirling. Out of control.

Red John was gone.

And Patrick Jane didn't know what came next. In his mind, he had never lived through it.

He thought that if the world kept swirling, he might get sick.

He had felt this way once before. After opening a door that should have stayed shut. After reading a note that never should have been written. And since, opening that door, he had lived in a world of red.

Suddenly, _her_ face appeared in front of his eyes.

And just like that, the spinning stopped.

He focused on her, excluding everything else. Ignoring everything else.

She was grounding him. She was causing this feeling inside.

It felt like…

It had been so long since he felt it, that he didn't recognize it at first.

Yes, that was it. A new day. It felt like waking up to the beginning of a day. The start of something. Another chance. Guilt swept in at that thought, but he focused on her face, memorizing every bit of her features.

Memorizing her.

* * *

Patrick Jane looked out across the ocean. It felt weird to be on the East coast, but this was where he began. Where he was born. Or so his father said. Jane always wondered if his dad could even remember where his own son was born. So many places, so many cons.

He inhaled, feeling the crisp air that drifted in from the Atlantic.

But all he thought about was the Pacific.

The ocean had always felt a little bit like home to him. He supposed that's why he and his wife had bought a house on the waterfront. He allowed himself to think of his wife. To really think of her.

Not the frail, lifeless body that he had stumbled upon when opening the door to the end of his life as he knew it. But her.

The graceful way she played the piano, taught their daughter to play. The elegance of her body as she danced—even just around the house. Her cool loveliness. He smiled softly. Yes, his wife had reminded him of the Atlantic and the comforting feeling of home that accompanied it. Elegant, crisp, beautiful. Strong with a cold temper if angered. Mercurial.

And vast. Vast enough to take in all of his faults, to make them seem small in comparison.

A new face floated up to his consciousness and his smile turned into a grin.

The Pacific.

That's what Lisbon was. Just as mercurial, but fiery where his wife had been cool. Sun setting in the warm nights. Stars shining overhead.

Vast enough to take in his faults, make them seem small. Insignificant in the face of her loyalty.

He thought it strange that they were more alike than he could have imagined and wondered what it would have been like for them to meet.

They would have liked each other. He almost laughed. They would have been unstoppable.

Jane stood for hours, watching the waves of the Atlantic, saying goodbye.

He missed the Pacific.

* * *

He sat on the bare mattress. Below the gruesome face that had haunted his sleep for years until he no longer slept but to dream of it.

Until he tried to go without sleep at all.

He hadn't been able to let go of the house. It was his one link to them. To his family. To Red John.

But it was over.

And he knew he had to let go. Or he would really lose it.

Again, her face came to his mind unbidden. He closed his eyes, embracing the image of her. He wanted that. Every day. Every morning. Every evening.

He wanted to be the one who listened to her complain about work—even if it was about him.

He wanted to grow old with her. Wanted to see her barefoot and cranky even at the age of seventy.

He wanted to leave this house and Red John behind. Build a new life. One where he embraced the good memories, let go of the bad, and created new ones. He wanted a home, like this shell of a house had once been.

And he wanted it with her.

He needed her.

He opened his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Now he had to see if she needed him.

Because he couldn't do it without her. There was no life for him unless she was sharing it.

Maybe it was time he sold this house. He didn't need the ocean outside his back stoop.

Not if she was with him.

********************************************************  
_**End**_**.**

_**Atlantic**_

_I hope all my days  
Will be lit by your face  
I hope all the years  
Will hold tight our promises_

I don't wanna be old and sleep alone  
An empty house is not a home  
I don't wanna be old and feel afraid

I don't wanna be old and sleep alone  
An empty house is not a home  
I don't wanna be old and feel afraid

And if I need anything at all

I need a place  
That's hidden in the deep  
Where lonely angels sing you to your sleep  
Though all the world is broken

I need a place  
Where I can make my bed  
A lover's lap where I can lay my head  
Cos now the room is spinning  
The day's beginning


	2. Is it any wonder

Wrote this on the plane to Seattle so I hope it's coherent. Again, it's not connected to the first chapter at all. Another one shot.

**Is it any wonder?**

Sometimes Lisbon almost hated Jane.

The way he could coldly declare his murderous intentions with no regard for others—least of all her.

The way he trivialized her job.

The way he behaved childishly, reaping trouble where ever he went.

The way he looked when he stood so close and earnestly declared that he would save her.

She didn't want to be saved—least of all by him.

Besides, it was a lie. Here she was, left in the dark as he pursued Red John. She knew she shouldn't feel betrayed. It wasn't as if she had ever believed that he truly cared for her. She didn't want him to make her doubt. She knew that her job counted. That justice mattered. That what she did was good.

Still, she hated that he could make her feel this way. Make her feel the need to justify.

Before him, she hadn't realized how lonely her convictions could be. And she knew that there was no fix. It wouldn't change.

She hadn't lied. She had known he would be the end of her career. She just hadn't known he would make her this confused in the process.

Conflicted.

She stared at the door of her office. With every breath, she expected it to open. She waited for bad news. She waited for that disappointment that mingled with relief. Waited for Jane to return, depressed that he had missed the chance to slaughter his nemesis. Waited for one of the team—or worse, an unrelated officer of the law—to arrive with the horrifying news that Jane was dead. Or arrested for murder.

Funny how so much hinged on what lay beyond her office door.

It was enough to make herself question her feelings again. She had wondered for a while if she loved Jane. Why else would his life make her mad…sad. Betrayed. Hopeful.

No, that was stupid. If Jane had taught her anything, it was that love was simply a thing of fairy tales, believed by children and those who hadn't yet grown up. She had been old at the age of twelve.

God, just look at what he did to her. Made her think of things like love. Her past. If she didn't lie to herself, she would admit that he even made her think of the future. Was it sad that she wasn't even surprised by now?

The knob on her door began to turn.

Lisbon shut her eyes.

She'd rather face the darkness of her eyelids than the darkness that Jane brought to her.

_**End**_

_**Is it any wonder**_

_I.. I always thought that I knew__  
__I'd always have the right to__  
__be living in the kingdom of the good and true and so on__  
__But now I think I was wrong__  
__and you were laughing along__  
__And now I look a fool for thinking you were on...___

_My side,__  
__Is it any wonder I'm tired?__  
__Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?__  
__Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?___

_Sometimes it's hard to know where I stand,__  
__it's hard to know where I am,__  
__Well maybe it's a puzzle I don't understand.__  
__Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm__  
__stranded in the wrong time__  
__where love is just a lyric in a children's rhyme, a soundbite___

_Is it any wonder I'm tired?__  
__Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?__  
__Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?__  
__Oh, these days, after all the misery made,__  
__Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?__  
__Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?___

_Nothing left inside this old cathedral,__  
__just the sad, lonely spires,__  
__How do you make it right?___

_Oh, but you try,__  
__Is it any wonder I'm tired?__  
__Is it any wonder that I feel uptight?__  
__Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?__  
__Oh, these days, after all the misery made,__  
__Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?__  
__Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?_


	3. Nothing in My Way

Wow, this one is insanely dark. Sorry about that. I sat down to type up something that I had written on the bus for this chapter, but when I started to play the song (I like to have the sound of it to influence my feelings), my fingers took over and made this. Warning: this may be a bit disturbing. A fic about if Jane really and truly lost his sanity. I didn't even know I could write something so sad…

**Nothing in My Way**

He tried to ignore her eyes.

That had been a mistake. He should have blindfolded her when he had gagged her. But no. Stupid hindsight.

Green eyes reproached him, betrayal shining in them in a way he had never wanted to see. He turned to leave.

It was as if something invisible was holding him back.

He saw her jump, startled, out of the corner of his eye when he slammed his fist into the wall next to the door. He rested his forehead on the door, ignoring the needling pains traveling up from his hands.

He remembered the moment where it changed…

"_Is that why you started this?"_

_The voice was cold. He didn't answer. The cool calmness disappeared._

"_Is it?" There was a hint of hysteria in that raised voice. He thought he would have to work hard at this, at not flinching when he hurt her like this. He was surprised that he could feel this strange detachment._

_For months, they had been lovers. She had been hesitant at first, but he had carefully and deliberately cut through all of her objections and defenses until he had gotten what he wanted._

_No surprise there._

_But it had only spiraled down from there. He was powerless against his need for revenge, his thirst for the blood of his nemesis._

_She hadn't expected it. Indeed, that was probably the only way he had overpowered her._

"I don't want this."

Even he wasn't sure what he meant. Want her? Want this relationship? Want to betray her?

For a moment, he couldn't see the wall in front of him, couldn't hear her shifting to try to free herself. Couldn't hear her quickened breathing, his own harsh pants.

It was black.

Blessed black.

Engulfing him, taking him away from this pain. Saving him from life again.

Just like it had pushed that horrid red from his vision that day years ago when…

No. Don't think about that.

But that bright red in his mind's eye had chased the black away. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing—_wanting_—it to return.

He remembered how he tried to fight it these last months. Tried to pretend he could be anything but what he was. That his life was something that it was not.

_Her smile was like a punch to the gut and, for a moment, he couldn't breathe for the intense feelings filtering through him. He pulled her to him, holding her tightly._

_She squirmed when his embrace became just a little too tight. Finally, she playfully pinched his side and he jumped, allowing himself to fall easily into a fun afternoon. Picnic. Beach. Collapsing on the sand to watch the stars._

_Content._

_Ignoring the feeling that this wasn't real. That it wouldn't last. That he—deep down—didn't deserve to be so happy._

It hadn't worked. He knew it wouldn't.

So why couldn't he leave? He didn't want this.

Didn't want her. Didn't want to stay by her side.

Didn't want to leave it.

The red crept from his memories to his imagination and then it was her, lying on the floor with belongs strewn about—evidence of a struggle. Blood slowly seeping from her body, staining the floor to match the face on the wall.

Green crystal eyes staring vacantly, suddenly not a green he was familiar with.

Body pale. Too pale.

And then he didn't see that. He didn't see anything. He opened the door and left, ignoring the stifled voice coming from behind him. Or maybe he couldn't even hear that anymore.

The door shut with a muffled thud and he squinted in the bright light, walking carefully through the woods, away from the lone shed in the middle of nowhere.

She would be safe here.

Forever.

He started to smile, happy that he had finally done something right. Soon, his enemy would be gone and there would be nothing left between them. Nothing would get in his way.

And he wouldn't have to worry about seeing that awful red liquid everywhere. Everywhere, everywhere. Staining the floor and her skin and her clothes.

His vision.

After all, once they were both dead, there would only be blackness. And it would never go away.

**End.**

_Nothing in My Way_

A turning tide  
Lovers at a great divide  
Why d'you laugh?  
When I know that you're hurt inside?

And why'd you say  
It's just another day, nothing in my way  
I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay  
So there's nothing left to say?  
And why'd you lie  
When you wanna die, when you're hurt inside  
Don't know what you lie for anyway  
Now there's nothing left to say

A tell-tale sign  
You don't know where to draw the line

And why'd you say  
It's just another day, nothing in my way  
I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay  
So there's nothing left to say  
And why'd you lie  
When you wanna die, when you're hurt inside  
Don't know what you lie for anyway  
Now there's nothing left to say

Well for a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time  
For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time  
For a lonely soul, it seems to me that you're having such a nice time  
You're having such a nice time

(Just...)  
For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time  
(...another day, nothing in my way, I..)  
For a lonely soul, you're having such a nice time  
(...don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay. just..)  
For a lonely soul, it seems to me that you're having such a nice time  
(... another day, nothing in my way; Don't know what you lie for...)  
You're having such a nice time  
(...anyway)


	4. Leaving So Soon

Wow. It's been a long time. Div posted a chapter of one of her excellent stories a few weeks back and it nudged me into reality. Unfortunately, life has been a bit chaotic and time to write is practically non-existent, but I finally was able to get this out. It was written and immediately posted so please forgive any mistakes. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more in the next few months as I have lots of ideas just begging to get out…

**Leaving So Soon**

Lisbon watched Jane walk away. She fought to keep her hands from fisting, to keep her breathing even. Calm. Almost desperately, she reached for calm. Grasping, grasping, wanting to pull it around her like a protective shield.

It was a moment before she realized she might not need that sought after calm. Her heartbeat was even. Breaths coming in a steady pattern.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Her fingers dangled at her side.

The doors swooshed shut, blocking the sight of Patrick Jane's back from her eyes.

It didn't matter. She was almost numb. Feelings seeping out of her, leaving her strangely detached. She headed for the doors through which her consultant—_ex_-consultant—had exited. Not to follow.

Never to follow. The sun glinted off cars, causing her to squint. He wasn't going to be glancing back, waiting for her to run after him. And she surely wasn't going to be doing that running. She wasn't going to be chasing him down, begging him to stay with her—_the team_. She headed for her car, going through the motions: buckling her belt, inserting the key in the ignition, turning it, putting the car into gear.

It wasn't until she was home that she realized she _wasn't_ numb.

She was angry. Incredibly angry.

"_Don't get in my way, Lisbon!"_

_Her eyes glittered dangerously, fiercely. "Get in your way? We're a team, damn it! Family! We work together. We don't keep important things like this from one another."_

_He rolled his eyes, his lips twisting in what some may call a smile. To her it was a sneer. "Don't think for a moment that any of you are more important to me than this case."_

_She stilled. "What about protecting me? Keeping me from danger? Empty promises?"_

_He turned away and she couldn't read his expression anymore. Wondered if she _ever_ could. If she ever had. Or was she just seeing what he wanted her to, just playing into his games and manipulations? Was the team really a means to an end? The cases just a way to challenge his mind? A way to kill time until he could get his hands on what he really wanted to kill?_

_His voice was soft when he answered and she couldn't tell if it was because of a viciousness she had never really wanted to acknowledge or if it was because he was in pain, building a wall where he thought there should be._

"_You don't need protection. At least not from anything but your own idealism. Your own sense of morality. Not all men can withstand your exacting standards, Lisbon."_

_She flinched. She wanted to reach out and touch his back. It seemed so far away. Her hand moved towards him. He was hurting. Why was he always hurting? "Jane, don't do this."_

_He turned back to her and her hand dropped. His eyes were like blue-grey flint—cold and opaque, showing nothing of the emotions she was sure he felt. "Do what? Tell the truth? You're unrealistic. Living in a dream world, _agent_."_

_She refused to let herself flinch again at the sneer that crept into his voice. He continued._

"_Your morals, your false sense of justice. I hope they make nice bedfellows. Because from where I stand, there will never be anyone who can live up to your measures of right and wrong." His eyes glittered cruelly, wanting to hurt, to wound. "It's no wonder you are alone. At least my solitude is through choice."_

_It was as if the blood in her veins froze. Her very body filled with a stillness that she didn't recognize. Her eyes lost their ferocity. He couldn't mean it…he was hurt. He _always_ lashed out like this when he was hurting._

_But the stillness inside of her afforded some insight that she had never had. She practically saw the gears turning in his head, the thoughts working, the plan etching itself out. His face softened, regret painting across it._

_How many times had this happened? How many times had she seen that very same transformation?_

_Seen what he wanted her to see._

"_Lisbon, I—" he started, visibly stumbling over the words. "I didn't mean that. _Of course_ I didn't mean that. I just—"_

_He fumbled. Stopped. Willed her with soulful eyes to understand what he was trying to convey. Her mind flashed to this same scene. Different words, same script._

_Over and over._

_She wanted to let that soft look of understanding come over her. Wanted to let it go. Keep believing he cared. Believing that his cruelty, his cold-blooded plans, were a front for a man with deep emotional wounds._

_Like a movie on repeat, she saw this scene again and again. Different stages, same place in her life._

_Over and over._

_And she couldn't lie to herself. Not anymore. Couldn't pretend that she wasn't a means to an end. That she wasn't a pawn in his game. That she wasn't being manipulated by Patrick Jane. That he wasn't trying to make her feel as if his words were motivated by pain._

_She knew now, with an unfailing certainty somehow, that he had been doing it the whole time. Lulling her into a sort of complacency. Making her feel as if he was merely emotionally wounded, making her think that she could heal him. Making her feel like she could change his mind. That they were a team. Working on the Red John case together._

_Over and over, she was manipulated. He pulled on her heartstrings deliberately, hiding it behind a façade designed to make people (_her_) think that he didn't want people to feel pity for him, to know that he was in pain._

_Ironic that he cared about Red John in a way that he would never care about another person again._

_And he would never let her get in the way._

She had requested that the Red John case be transferred to another team. Permanently. The ultimate betrayal.

She had also requested that Patrick Jane go with the file. Join the new team.

Find someone else to manipulate.

Even though she knew the extent of his manipulation, she knew that she would soften when the scene came up again in Act II. And again in Act III. Different words, same script. She would eventually allow herself to be taken in. Her hope, her yearning, would make her think that she could save him.

She wanted to save him. The way she couldn't save her father. The way she tried her damnedest to save those after. Her brothers. Bosco.

It was funny, actually. Jane had been right. She needed protection from herself. Well, she would rely on herself for that. Excising the case (_him_) from her team (_her life_) was the only way she could be sure she wouldn't fall into the same trap.

And he never saw it coming. He was so sure that he understood her inside and out. That he could continue this encore over and over. When he had received the order from the boss, he had looked stunned. As if struck.

Wordlessly, he had turned and left. Had she expected that he would argue, that he would fight to be on her team?

The doors had swooshed shut, blocking the sight of Patrick Jane's back from her eyes. She had headed for the doors through which her consultant—_ex_-consultant—had exited.

Not to follow.

Never to follow.

He didn't need her.

And she wouldn't need him.

**End.**

_**"Leaving So Soon?"**___

_Ah, ah ah, ah ah, ah!__  
__Ah, ah ah, ah ah, ah!___

_You must think I'm a fool__  
__So prosaic and awkward and all__  
__D'you think you've got me down?__  
__D'you think I've never been out of this town?___

_Do I seem too eager to please to you now?__  
__You don't know me at all__  
__I can't turn it on, turn it off like you now__  
__I'm not like you now___

_Now you're here__  
__I bet you're wishing you could disappear__  
__I'm trying to be kind__  
__I get the feeling you're just killing time___

_You look down on me__  
__Don't you look down on me now__  
__You don't know me at all__  
__A slap in the face__  
__In the face for you now__  
__Just might do now___

_You're leaving so soon__  
__Never had a chance to bloom__  
__But you were so quick__  
__To change your tune__  
__Don't look back__  
__If I'm a weight around your neck__  
__Cos if you don't need me__  
__I don't need you___

_Ah, ah ah, ah ah, ah!__  
__Ah, ah ah, ah ah, ah!___

_Leaving so soon, soon__  
__Leaving, leaving so, soon___

_You're leaving so soon__  
__Never had a chance to bloom__  
__But you were so quick__  
__To change your tune__  
__Don't look back__  
__If I'm a weight around your neck__  
__Cos if you don't need me__  
__Then I don't need you___

_Ah, ah ah, ah ah, ah!_


	5. Bad Dream

So, I know these were originally going to all be completely unrelated one shots and they can still be read that way, but this is also in a way a continuation of the last chapter. Please read them separately if you like, but in my mind they are a matched pair. Although I feel like the last chapter could be a possible outcome of the Lisbon/Jane relationship, my inner Jisbon shipper couldn't allow for a different possibility. One where Lisbon's reading of the situation was perhaps not quite accurate. Who knows? Maybe one of the other one shots in this collection will provide a third part? Thanks for reading!

**Bad Dream**

Patrick Jane stared out his windshield, shoulders slumping.

He felt...tired.

He blinked heavily. Maybe if he kept closing his eyes, they would open and it would have all been a dream. A horrible one.

Lisbon had requested that the Red John case be transferred. Even now, Jane knew that he should be angry—no, _livid—_but those emotions had been thwarted when she had requested that Jane be moved with the case.

She wanted him gone. She had finally given up on him.

He thought back to an argument they had recently. It was as if he had seen things change before his eyes.

_"Don't get in my way, Lisbon!"_

_He didn't want her there, stopping him, making him feel all sorts of things he had thought he would never feel again. He didn't want her to remind him that he could have a future—especially when he didn't deserve one. He didn't want her between him and Red John. There was too much at stake. His revenge. Her life. What if Red John..._

_Her eyes glittered dangerously, fiercely. "Get in your way? We're a team, damn it! Family! We work together. We don't keep important things like this from one another."_

_Frustrated, he rolled his eyes and his lips twisted in what some may call a smile. Why couldn't things go the way he planned? Why had he let the team become important to him? He couldn't let it happen, couldn't let them feel—his brain stuttered to a stop before he could complete the thought. He just couldn't. Not for him. "Don't think for a moment that any of you are more important to me than this case."_

_She stilled and he fought to keep steel in his voice. "What about protecting me? Keeping me from danger? Empty promises?"_

_The words were like a punch to the gut and he turned away, hiding his pain and regret from her. Couldn't she see that he _was_ protecting her? She should stay away from him. Too many chances. Red John...Even aside from that, Jane knew deep down, he wasn't worth it. Wasn't _worthy_._

_His voice was soft when he answered, trying to keep overt emotion from it. He remembered a saying he had heard once. He had thought it apt but sad, even then. Now he found it devastating, but necessary._

You gotta be cruel to be kind...

"_You don't need protection. At least not from anything but your own idealism. Your own sense of morality. Not all men can withstand your exacting standards, Lisbon."_

_He shuddered, wondering how he could force words like that past his lips. He was so happy he couldn't see her. Couldn't read her eyes. A second later he heard her voice and realized that it didn't matter if he couldn't see her with his eyes. He knew her too well. She knew _him _too well. __"Jane, don't do this."_

_He turned back to her, seeing her hand drop. That small movement made his heart wrench. He couldn't do it to her. He had to put space between them. He was hurting her. Would hurt her. His voice was hard when he responded. "Do what? Tell the truth? You're unrealistic. Living in a dream world, _agent_."_

_The bit of sneer wasn't as hard to add as he had expected. There was bitterness in him. Not directly at her, but...he didn't want to feel for her. Didn't want her feeling for him. He wanted...he wanted _space_. Freedom. Revenge._

_Her safety._

_He continued. _"_Your morals, your false sense of justice. I hope they make nice bedfellows. Because from where I stand, there will never be anyone who can live up to your measures of right and wrong." _

_He felt the prick of emotion against his eyelids as he blinked and willed it away. He needed to hurt, to wound. For her. "It's no wonder you are alone. At least my solitude is through choice."_

_Yet his resolve was short-lived. As he watched, it was as if the blood in her veins froze. Her eyes lost their ferocity. He felt panic rise, regret following. Overwhelming. Nausea. No. He couldn't—_

"_Lisbon, I—" he started, visibly stumbling over the words. "I didn't mean that. _Of course _I didn't mean that. I just—"_

_He stopped, not knowing how to continue, how to undo what just happened. After a moment of silence, he felt bile rise and realized that Lisbon always saved him in more ways than one. Even from himself. From his words. But this time she wasn't giving him an easy way out._

_She wasn't going to save him now._

When the orders for his transfer came, he left. He hadn't bothered to look behind him. He didn't want to see the anger, the disdain, even _hatred_, that he was sure crossed her face.

Worse: he didn't want to see relief.

Sitting in his car, he watched her walk resolutely to hers before leaning forward and resting his forehead on his steering wheel, feeling his very breath leech out of his body as his eyes closed. He had been fighting for so long. So long that he hadn't really realized that she was his support. His back up. And now all he felt was tired.

Even his hatred for Red John seemed somehow lessened.

It was just his luck that he would realize it now. Realize all she meant to him. All the team meant to him. They _were_ his family. He opened his eyes and raised his head, searching, searching.

She was long gone.

_**Bad Dream**_

_Why do I have to fly  
over every town up and down the line?  
I'll die in the clouds above  
and you that I defend, I do not love._

I wake up, it's a bad dream,  
No one on my side,  
I was fighting  
But I just feel too tired  
to be fighting,  
guess I'm not the fighting kind.

Where will I meet my fate?  
Baby I'm a man, I was born to hate.  
And when will I meet my end?  
In a better time you could be my friend.

I wake up, it's a bad dream,  
No one on my side,  
I was fighting  
But I just feel too tired  
to be fighting,  
guess I'm not the fighting kind.  
Wouldn't mind it  
if you were by my side  
But you're long gone,  
yeah you're long gone now.

Where do we go?  
I don't even know,  
My strange old face,  
And I'm thinking about those days,  
And I'm thinking about those days.

I wake up, it's a bad dream,  
No one on my side,  
I was fighting  
But I just feel too tired  
to be fighting,  
guess I'm not the fighting kind.  
Wouldn't mind it  
if you were by my side  
But you're long gone,  
yeah you're long gone now.  



	6. Hamburg Song

Wow, it's been forever. I can't say I'll be back to writing again, though I really, really hope I can. I haven't really even been able to read any Mentalist works—except for the ones that alert my email and even then not always. I've missed this community so much! But, anyway, I definitely want to finish this collection up. This is actually one of the songs on the album that struck me right away as being perfect for Jane/Lisbon. Unfortunately, their relationship is rather unbalanced and though Jane brings something to Lisbon's life I think she undoubtedly gives him much more.

Hope you enjoy!

_**Hamburg Song**_

Teresa Lisbon lay in the dark, her breath quick and rasping—the only sound splitting the silence of the night. Her ears strained, trying to hear something, _anything_, beyond the small room, beyond the flimsy wooden door.

She knew exactly how flimsy the doors in this house were. Images of splintered wood played against her eyelids. For a moment the sounds of her brothers crying seemed to invade the night. She took a deep, gasping breath and opened her eyes. It was silent. The cries weren't real. Not tonight.

She held her eyes wide, welcoming the darkness in which she lay, trying to keep out memories of shattered doors and pounding fists away.

She caught sight of a pattern of light in the far corner. There must be a crack in the curtains that was letting in the streetlight's glow. Her gaze fastened on it. Her hand crept up to her neck and grasped the small cross that was ever-present. That had been ever-present since…

She bit her lip as a vision of dark hair and laughter danced across her memory…

No!

She had to focus. She couldn't afford—her brothers couldn't afford—for her mind to wander. But as she listened to the quietness of the house, her body started to relax. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe he'd sleep it off somewhere else tonight.

And this time it was a tall man with sparkling green eyes and a wicked, but tender smile that crept into her mind. It was almost more cruel. To seemingly have something, but to know that really it—_he_—was lost. Forever. Because she couldn't be what he needed. Because she couldn't save her. Much as she wanted to. Because she couldn't save _him_.

Teresa remembered the countless times they had gone to mass. Genuflected before entering the pew. Greeted their neighbors, friends, with smiles and chattering conversation. Felt the affectionate, paternal ruffle of Father's hand in her hair. The gentle grasp of Dad's hand while they all said the Lord's Prayer.

The many times her mother had sat silently after Mass, kneeling in the pew, hands clasped and head bowed. Intent. So intent. Cross necklace glinting in the soft, filtered light that streamed through the stained glass windows of the traditional cathedral.

Teresa could still remember the soft smile as her mother finished and stood. The words she would sometimes utter as they left the quiet, hopeful sanctity of the church. _"This is home. Much as we—our family—are each other's home. And there will always be light for us here."_

Unbidden, tears filled her eyes at the memory, blurring the pattern of light that was sprinkled on the darkness of her bedroom walls.

They never went to Mass anymore. Her father didn't believe in God.

Didn't believe in light.

Didn't seem to believe in family anymore, actually.

Her hand tightened and the cross pressed into her palm, imprinting its shape on her skin. She believed.

She thought she did, at least. She _wanted_ to. She now knew what ugliness the world held—_metal screeching against metal; the deafening noise that followed; blood as red and deep as Communion wine mingling with those beautiful dark tresses; stark white walls as her brothers clung to her crying for their mother; the soft thud of dirt against a coffin; the sharp stench of alcohol and angry yelled words; the horror of Violence as it invaded their home, a companion to Grief_—and still…still, she wanted light. Family. Home.

So Teresa clung to the cross in the darkness of night to try to find it for herself (as her mother had) and during every other moment she worked hard to be that for her brothers.

She was never sure if it worked, but it wasn't from lack of trying…

Years later

Teresa Lisbon shut her front door, dumped her mail and keys on a small table already overflowing, kicked off her shoes, and headed for her kitchen. She stood in the doorway staring alternatively at her fridge and her stove. She sighed. She was too tired to cook. Actually, maybe too tired to eat.

She flipped the light off and went straight to her bedroom. Work clothes dropped haphazardly in the laundry basket, she brushed her teeth and washed her face in the connecting bathroom before falling into her bed to burrow in soft sheets and the deep darkness of night. She tried not to think about the day she had just had. Instead, she let her mind drift to happier moments. It was disconcerting how many of those moments included a certain blond haired, blue-eyed bedeviling consultant.

She sighed into her pillow. Not as disconcerting as it may have once been. Lisbon was not stupid. Nor did she believe in lying to herself…well, not too much and not for too long.

And she had been working with Patrick Jane for far too long. Too long to lie to herself about her feelings toward him. In a happier time, a more carefree time, he would be what her mother would call _home_.

It didn't surprise her that her so-called _home_ was a broken one. After all, she supposed she gravitated to what she knew.

As she had with her brothers, all she wanted was to help him, protect him, bring him light, happiness. Home. She admitted to herself, there in the dark of her bedroom under the covers, that she wanted to be home to him. She couldn't stop herself from being honest enough to also admit that there was no way he'd ever find a home again. Not if he could help it.

But she knew he yearned for it. She could see it in the way he interacted with kids. His carefree enjoyment of the frivolities of life. The way he protected those he unwillingly cared for—the team, even herself.

She knew she was stupid to want to help him. To want to help herself. To want…_more_. But it seems it was a stupidity from her childhood that she had never outgrown. All the ugliness of the world—_it had only increased with time; bodies at crime scenes; people turning viciously on their loved ones for the stupidest reasons: greed, money; thoughtless moments of violent impulse, ending lives through death or crushing guilt; broken people; vengeance_—hadn't crushed her hope.

So she gave. Even when she swore she wouldn't—_"…if you try and do violence to him, I will try and stop you"_—with every moment she spent with Jane, she gave a little more. Until she was afraid that she had given all that was good in her to him. She wasn't sure she would stop him. She wasn't sure that she could hold to her morals and her sense of what was right.

If Jane tried to kill Red John—if he _did_ kill Red John—she certainly wouldn't help him. At least she didn't think she would. But she didn't even know if she could make herself be angry with him for it.

Lisbon kept her eyes closed, resisting the urge to open them and ignore the many images playing across the back of her eyelids. Scene after scene of Jane. Happy, angry, broken. Vengeful.

God, didn't he know he was hurting himself? Keeping himself from fully grieving, from moving on? Didn't he know that she gave him so much and he kept taking? Kept being the person who drew her in. Giving her glimpses of a man so complex, so shattered that she just wanted to run away, reminded of herself and her own shattered past. And how hard she had worked to overcome it. She was sure he would only drag her down.

And then it would happen. She'd see another man. She'd catch a glimpse of his quiet contemplation. So like that stillness in her mother at church. She'd see Jane's kindness to someone in need. His ability to enjoy the moment. To bring happiness to others.

Sometimes it made something inside her break. She wondered how she could fall for someone even as he made her feel like a twelve year old girl again, grieving in the dark for someone who would never come back.

She only hoped history wasn't doomed to repeat itself. She feared it was.

_**Hamburg Song**_

_I don't wanna be adored__  
__Don't wanna be first in line__  
__Or make myself heard__  
__I'd like to bring a little light__  
__To shine a light on your life__  
__To make you feel loved___

_No, don't wanna be the only one you know__  
__I wanna be the place you call home___

_I lay myself down__  
__To make it so, but you don't want to know__  
__I give much more__  
__Than I'd ever ask for___

_Will you see me in the end__  
__Or is it just a waste of time__  
__Trying to be your friend__  
__Just shine, shine, shine__  
__Shine a little light__  
__Shine a light on my life__  
__Warm me up again___

_Fool, I wonder if you know yourself at all__  
__You know that it could be so simple___

_I lay myself down__  
__To make it so, but you don't want to know__  
__You take much more__  
__Than I'd ever ask for___

_Say a word or two to brighten my day__  
__Do you think that you could see your way___

_To lay yourself down__  
__And make it so, but you don't want to know__  
__You take much more__  
__Than I'd ever ask for_


End file.
